"Inconsequential fluff with a success story better than the script’s."

Accounted to us by the outcast of, according to her, a “typical” Greek family, the once “swarthy six-year-old with sideburns” has ceased to wall-up in a cocoon and morph into her butterfly until Mr. Non-Greek enters the picture, long after her family has given up hope.

From there on, it isn’t so much a clash of cultures than it is a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am introduction to the culture, the culture with a root in everything. (One of my favorite bits was the father’s predisposition to Windex.) It is never less than over-the-top, at all times, and although nothing else would be expected, the execution is exclusively situation comedy. (Not surprisingly, a television show extension is being made.) It’s pleasant, clumsily charming, largely identifiable, but even somewhat mundane. Greek Wedding’s detraction is that it is, after all, inconsequential fluff with a success story better than the script’s, but there’s rarely any harm in (rooting for) the little engine that could.